wherever we may find ourselves
by artificial
Summary: it's such a shame, remus notes to nobody in particular.


_in your tears and in your blood / in your fire and in your flood / i hear you laugh, i heard you sing / 'i wouldn't change a single thing'_ —- til kingdom come, coldplay

* * *

He stumbles backwards, feet kicking against the rubble-strewn floor for lack of purchase, as his wand flies from his hand. A sharp flash of pain goes through him as he lands on his side, his mouth open in surprise, the breath driven straight out of his body.

 _So clumsy_ , he thinks. _What would James and Sirius think of me now, to see me like this?_

It's his pride that urges him to reach for his wand, fallen only a few scant meters away, to not lay there like some feeble old man caught in the dust, and caution that tells him to roll over as a curse strikes the space where his head had been just moments before. The smell of sulfur burns his nose as his fingers grasp the handle of his wand, swing it around just in time to deflect a jet of purple light. His whole arm shakes from the strain of blocking the spell, weary joints aching. He coughs, an ugly sound, harsh and throaty. There is too much smoke here, he decides, and he is too tired to bear it any longer.

The Death Eater lifts a hand, summoning pressure and heat, readies another curse-

" _Confringo!_ "

To his left. _That's his wife's voice, that's Tonks_ , Remus notices, a few seconds late - so much smoke in the air. A stream of fire lifts the man who might have killed him and throws him bodily into a wall, blackening stone and raining chucks of masonry down from the ceiling. It makes him smile a little.

Tonks arrives quickly, wand tucked into the pocket of her coat and hair still red - war red, red for the Weasleys, for their kin. She pulls him to his feet, checking him all over, eyes a frenzy of nervous emotion. "God, where have you been? I've been looking for you all over." Even as he makes to speak, she cuts him off. "Are you alright? Oh _shit_ , your arm - here, let me get that for you."

Gingerly, she peels away layers of bloody fabric and passes her wand over it, muttering incantations for purification and mending. Outside, the battle is still raging, but here in this corridor, it is blessedly quiet save for Tonks' ministrations. It feels so much like peace. Secretly, he wishes he could take this silence and wrap it around both of them, away from all the hurt and death. To retire to a little hilltop cottage, and stay in bed with Tonks and his son and watch the sun pouring through their windows, have tea and toast in the morning, walk around the countryside so far from the thought of war...

Ah. He's getting old.

"This'll hold for now," Tonks says, looking critically over her work. "You'll have to get back to the Order later, though. Maybe Molly might fix you up better than I have."

"They'll do. How about you, then? Are you fine?"

"Me?" she pretends to scoff, grinning. "I'm in better shape than an old grandfather like you. _Remus_." Lightly, she punches him on the shoulder, gazing at him, so still. "What's wrong?"

"Dora-" And he says her name softly, reverently, as no one else can, as no one else is allowed to. "I've been thinking. Let's do it, after this is done. Let's give our boy a home, a real home. No more fighting. No more of this damned war." He grips her shoulders, grimy and exhausted but sure. "That's all I want. For us. For _you_."

"Remus..." Tonks blinks, something strangely beautiful coming over her face. "It'll end here, won't it. Voldemort."

"Yes."

"And Harry."

"Yes."

"After it's over, we'll see." Tears are shining on her cheeks, and Remus marvels that she has never looked as perfect to him as she does now, the two of them all alone and ringed by destruction. "If there's still... if there's still... bloody hell, Remus!" Laughing and crying, she embraces him as he embraces her, spinning her around in the wreckage, delighted. She buries her head in the crook of his neck and he can smell berries, earth and soot, and it's the most wondrous thing he's ever experienced.

A rush of wind - two figures stride through the mist, wands drawn, and he and Tonks are ready as well, Tonks screaming, light arcing from her wand and colliding with a clear barrier, scattering into so many sparks of magic, so like fireworks. He roars, loosing spell after spell, his wand cool against the palm of his hand, blinding him with flares of blue and red and green and every colour he can imagine in between. Dimly, he registers Tonks shout, and, not a minute later, feels himself being struck by something bright and cold.

 _It's such a shame_ , Remus notes to nobody in particular but himself, _but it's not so terrible either-_

He can see Tonks falling with him, and he stretches out towards her, trying to reach her hand, and her eyes are all lit up emerald, and he finds her and holds on to her image, holds it inside his chest-

* * *

a/n: for the caesar's palace monthly oneshot contest


End file.
